


Body and Soul

by linda92595



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is pursued by a Demon in his dreams who turns out to be a lot closer than <br/>he suspects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body and Soul

The windows were salted and so was the door. He had drawn a devil's trap on the vinyl tiles at the doorway, so John Winchester was reasonably sure that no demons were getting across the threshold tonight. He was tired, a bone-deep weariness that came from too long hours hunting and not enough time sleeping. The motel was cheap and it showed in the mattress, lumpy and sagging especially with Bill Harvelle's big body right in the middle of it. John grunted and poked Bill in the ribs. The big man grumbled under his breath and shifted allowing the smaller man in, and John Winchester was not a small man so that spoke of just how big Bill really was.

 

The room was chilly but John didn’t mind, sleeping with Bill was like curling up around a blast furnace. Yep Bill got John hot and bothered in many different ways. Slipping out of his boxers John slid onto the reasonably crisp sheets that smelled a little too much like industrial strength bleach and pressed his back against Bill's back, wincing a little when the hair on the larger man crinkled against his smoother skin. Bill chuckled.

 

"You always do that John-boy."

 

"Do what?" John snapped, and if Bill took any offense at John's tone it didn't show in his voice. He rolled over draping one forearm over John's thighs working his huge hand between and gently squeezed John's balls between his thumb and fingers. John grunted and Bill stoked over John's already hardening cock. 

 

"Need a hand getting to sleep?" Bill said snickering at his own joke. John rolled his eyes and flopped back letting the other man's hand work him until his back arched and his hips jumped off the bed.

 

"Just ride me, Bill, and let's go to sleep."

 

Bill didn't wait to be asked twice.  He rose up shoving his knees between John's legs and pressed their cocks together. Humming in the back of his throat he let out a gasp and rocked them both to orgasm in a few minutes. John sighed after he came, nothing better than a good fuck to get a man to sleep at night.

 

They didn't kiss each other. Not that John had objections to kissing another man. It was Bill's unwritten rule; he saved the kissy stuff for his wife. John didn't object to that either. Just because they were fucking didn’t mean they had to get mushy about it. Bill pulled the towel he had placed on the end of the bed and wiped them both down. John was already dozing when Bill brushed his lips over the smaller man's cheek. John put his palm on Bill's face and pushed.

 

"Cut it out."

 

"Yeah, I love you too, honey," Bill snickered again. "You know John; I may be a tad bit drunk."

 

"You're drunk off your ass Bill; half a bottle of Jack will do that. I'm drunk off my ass too; I just hold my whiskey better than you do."

 

"Do you think we'd fuck if we were sober?"

 

John rolled over onto one elbow and sighed not foreseeing getting any sleep in the near future now that Bill wanted to talk. At least he wasn’t maudlin and crying about cheating on Ellen like the last time, six months ago.  John preferred hunting alone and if he and Bill hadn't run into each other tracking the same werewolf he would be sleeping alone again. But whenever John and Bill found themselves together they wound up in the sack. Even then that was a half a dozen times at best.

 

"Why don't we give it up?" John asked.

 

Bill rolled back over to face the other man and looked at him aghast.

 

"Drinking or fucking?"

 

"Either or," John said in a pissy tone of voice and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Bill looked down right grave now.

 

John shook his head, and muttered, "Just shut up and let me get some sleep."

 

"Jeeze, you'd think that a guy who just got banged would be in a whole lot better mood. Good night Gracie."

 

John groaned and rolled onto his side, facing away from Bill, snuggling down into the too soft pillow. He didn't know exactly what woke him, but sometime later he raised his head listening intently for some vague sound. Then he froze. There was a tapping on the glass window panes. He heard a delicate rap, rap rapping that didn’t sound quite normal or natural.  John squirmed out from under the bulky body lying next to him and crept to the window. His hand came to rest on the sill and the rough salt crystals bit into his palm. A sing-song voice, almost like a child, carried to his ears and John cocked his head.

 

       _Little pig, little pig let me come in,_

_Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,_

_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in…_

John leaned his head against the glass, and the cool pane leeched the heat out of his face. His eyes scanned the parking lot. His huge old GMC pick-up sat beside Bill's Buick in the only two occupied slots in the entire lot. Seemed like he and Bill were the only ones there. The wind picked up a little, whipping a few dried leaves and some old newspaper into the air. Even though the lot was otherwise empty, John still felt uneasy. He normally asked for a second story room, but the hotel was one floor only, and the emptiness of the parking lot made him more nervous not less.

 

Suddenly a shadow fell across the window and John leapt back.  He could see the vague shape of a man standing just outside the glass. The figure was as tall as John, same body type, probably the same weight as John as well. From the back he looked younger though, with short cut hair. Then he turned. Smiling, the man leaned down, but the shadow of the awning blanketed most of his face until he shot forward both palms rattling the glass. His eyes glowed bright amber in the moonlight.

 

John cried out shooting upright, before he realized that he was sitting in the bed. His heart was pounding in his chest.

 

"Shit, oh, shit," he muttered.

 

Bill hadn't even flinched, and John was annoyed. He usually woke up when John had a nightmare. But truthfully Bill had drunk a lot more than John.  Not willing to admit that he was scared John decided that he'd wake Bill up and try to talk him into, at least, jerking John off.

 

"Bill," John hissed and his voice sounded hoarse in his own ears. "Come on, Billy wake up. I'll let you fuck me this time."

 

Bill didn't move, and now John was seriously annoyed.

 

"Come on Bill. Wake your fat ass up."

 

He jerked on Harvelle's shoulder and the big man flopped over. His throat was a mass of ripped flesh, blood clotted black on his chest, matting the blonde hair.  John shuffled back on the bed watching Bill's hand jerk as he tried to push himself upright. He raised his head as much as he was able, considering how much of the meat on his neck and shoulders was missing, and grinned.

 

"You're fucked alright, John-boy," he said as blood bubbled over his lips.

 

John gasped.

 

He shot straight up in the bed, hand groping over the covers beside him. The mattress was dipped under him, but only him. There was no one else in the bed. His hand shaking John flicked on the bedside lamp.

 

John stumbled out of the bed, throat aching. He couldn’t breath. There was half a bottle of Jack Daniel's on the dresser and he splashed two fingers into a plastic cup he had gotten out of the bathroom.

 

Of course Bill wasn't in the bed. Bill was stone cold dead and had been for twelve days. John had salted and burned his body after the werewolf had ripped out his throat. He was on the road back from Harvelle's Roadhouse dropping off Bill's things to his wife Ellen.

 

 John and Ellen had never gotten along; it was hard for a man to look a woman in the face when he was occasionally sleeping with her husband. And John suspected that Ellen knew about him and Bill, because frankly Bill couldn't keep his mouth shut, and he had blathered to John that he thought that he had once called Ellen "John" when they were screwing. Just fucking great. Everybody and his brother probably knew about it now. And John had to look at the girl when he dropped the boxes off with her mother.  So he was in a shitty mood, and just drove as far as he could until the needle in the gas gauge had dropped to E and he had to stop for gas.

 

That meant that he was in some crappy little dive in Nebraska and who the hell decided that Nebraska should be a state and that it should have absolutely fucking nothing in the whole damn place but grass and prairie dogs and god forsaken empty roads. But this little patch of heaven that he was holed up in, feeling sorry for himself, had three things in its favor. It was on the highway, out of state, it had a reasonably clean, dumpy little hotel that had a second story and half way decent TV reception, and there was a tavern and gas station across the street. John looked at the clock; it was a quarter past six. At least he had gotten five hours of sleep, which was more that he'd had in a while. 

 

A thin line of amber was crawling across the horizon, and John stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. He had forgone shaving and brushed his teeth. He could see that the IHOP was open as he dressed, and gathered his few dirty clothes into a pile to deal with that afternoon. Pulling a coat on John fished his room key out of an ashtray sitting on the dresser and picked up his wallet. He hiked across the parking lot to the diner and found a place at the counter. The news was on TV at the end of the counter and John focused on the reporter when the broadcast cut to Blue Bonnet.

 

"Hey," John said flagging down a waitress as she topped off coffee at the table next to his seat. "Can you turn that up a little?"

 

"Sure, honey," she said snapping her chewing gum.

 

John winced, he had quit smoking because just about every damn place had made it illegal to smoke inside, and maybe they should have made it illegal to chew gum too. But she did turn up the sound enough that he could follow what was being said.

 

A tall, fortyish looking woman in a tan suit was standing in front of the burned out remains of a house. The still smoldering wreckage looked like one of a row of track homes in a normal looking neighborhood in some backwater little Nebraska town.  She turned to the camera and John could swear he saw a gleam in her eyes. Not demon gleam just twisted-sister gleam. How did that old song go… _it's interesting when people die._ John felt disgusted. 

 

"…fire was first reported as accidental, but the police are reassessing that issue since the child has been reported missing. Once again the police have confirmed that there are two dead in this house fire in Blue Bonnet, the third fire in the past year. The dead are listed as Jack and Kelly Callahan.  Their six month old son, David, is listed as missing.  Back to you Dan…"

 

She smiled at the camera, and John thought, "Bitch" rather uncharitably since he really didn't know her. But it seemed as if John was not done in Nebraska just yet.

 

He was sitting at the bar in O'Malley's Tavern that evening with his back to the pool table drinking tequila when he noticed that the room seemed to still around him. The buzz from the crowd grew a little quieter and the waitress shuffling between tables came to a complete halt staring at the door.

 

He walked into the room as easy as you please, at a rolling stroll that looked a little too practiced to be natural, in John's opinion. But he had John's attention just as much as everybody else in the room. He was as tall as John, and about the same weight with brush cut honey blonde hair, short and neat, and maybe a dozen years younger than John's forty.  He moved easily between the tables with only the slight swish of denim on denim and the creak of his brown leather jacket.  Maybe John only noticed him because he looked like Mary. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, a nervous habit he never seemed to stop over the past twenty years since she had died.

 

The table of young college girls getting sloppy drunk and looking to get laid made a few nasty remarks toward the newcomer's direction that John thought girls would never make, but the young man just flicked a grin in their direction and kept walking. He moved past the pool table and thumped down on the barstool next to John's.

 

"Any good," he asked nodding at the glass in John's hand. John shrugged.

 

"As good as any, I guess," John said.

 

The kid had the look and feel of another hunter. They always seemed to be able to feel each other out. It was how John had met Bill Harvelle.  The younger man smiled, and waved at the bar tender.

 

"Fix me up with the same," he said making a stabbing gesture with one finger in the general direction of the glass in John's hand.  He leaned back stretching his back until it cracked and it almost brought a grin to John’s face. He had the habit of doing the same thing. The kid looked over at him and offered his hand, "Dean Jackson."

 

John cocked his head, and then shook. "John Winchester."

 

Dean took a sip of the tequila then nodded at the window. "You from around here, John?"

 

"No, just passing through."

 

"Yeah, I'm on my way to some little hellhole called Blue Bonnet," Dean said. "I've got some business down there."

 

"I was heading that direction myself," John said, and he knew then that Dean was a hunter probably checking out the same demon John was tracking. Dean spun around on the stool and thumped his booted foot against the leg of the pool table.

 

"You play pool, John?"

 

John did grin then. If the kid thought he was going to hustle John Winchester at pool he was ill informed at best, stupid at worst. But looking at Dean, John had a feeling the kid was anything but stupid. Lucky for Dean he was feeling charitable right now. 

 

"Been known too, but I'm kinda tapped out at the moment."

 

"I don't play for anything as mundane as money, John."

 

"Is that so?" John said waiting for the punch line. When it was not forthcoming he finally sighed. "What do you play for?"

 

Dean leaned forward, letting his hand rest on John's thigh just a little too high to be friendly camaraderie.

 

 "If I win I get to fuck you."

 

John sat back, both intrigued and offended. Did the kid think he was easy?

 

"How do you know I swing that way, Dean?"

 

"If you don't now, I guarantee I can make you."

 

 Dean grinned at him, and slid his hand up until his thumb bumped against John's groin. John felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He threw out his chest a little; the damn smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

 

Swallowing hard John shrugged.

 

"What do I get if I win?"

 

"How about if you win I fuck you?"

 

John rolled off the bar stool and headed to the rack to help himself to a pool cue. Dean racked the balls.  When John stepped past him, he felt Dean's hand on his ass.

 

"You seem to have a one track mind there, Dean."

 

"Oh, you have no idea."

 

They agreed on best three out of five, and John hung in there, losing the first game, but picking up the second and the third. Still he was sure that Dean was playing him, knowing that he was going to get what he wanted whether he beat John or not, and was letting John win. But the last two games went to the younger man. They had drawn a crowd and money was passed back and forth after each man had won.  John watched the last ball roll into the side pocket and Dean dropped the cue on the table. He watched as Dean wandered over to the corner and collected a big pile of cash from a group of truckers, and John was annoyed. The kid had obviously bet on himself, and in a big way.

 

They walked out of the bar together. John saw a classic 1967 Impala parked in the hotel parking lot near his truck and turned to Dean.

 

 "You drive that thing?"

 

Dean shook his head; he jerked his chin toward the '86 Pick-up that John was driving.

 

"You've got a thing for muscle on wheels, too."

 

John flushed when the younger man stoked a hand over his ass again. With a conspiratorial glance around he whispered to John.

 

"You want to fuck in the backseat of my car? It's plenty big enough."

 

"Hell no, I gave that up in high school. I prefer my bed, at least the crappy one in the hotel room." 

 

He waited while Dean grabbed his bag out of the car, and followed the older man to the stairs. John ushered the younger man up the steps and unlocked the door. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Dean crossed the devil's trap without even looking down. He breathed a little easier after that.

 

Dean took a shower, but John figured he was clean enough. He stripped and pulled the covers down on the bed. The sheets were cold and John shivered pulling the blankets up to his chest. Dean pushed the bathroom door open and hurried across the room, practically diving into the bed. His skin was cold to the touch when he brushed up against John, and John jerked away.

 

"Jeeze, wasn't there any hot water at all?"

 

"Not enough apparently, but you can warm me up."

 

"Who writes your stuff kid, cause that line went out when I was your age. How come you didn't hook up with the college girls? A couple of them had tits that wouldn't quit."

 

"Don't like college girls but I do like good looking older men. You fit the bill. But I gotta warn you, I don't bottom. You got a problem with that?"

 

John shook his head. Most men he hooked up with expected him to want to top them, and were surprised to find out that John actually preferred to bottom. With a woman he had the physical high-ground and they both knew it. No surprises about how things were going to go. But with a man he usually looked for someone who just might be able to kick his ass. And then laid back and enjoyed being man-handled, so to speak.

 

"You can even get a little rough if you want," John said grinning.

 

Dean returned the grin, and grabbed John's wrists. Pushing his thumb into the flesh just under John's thumb he forced John's hands flat on the bed, and John felt a flash of heat running down his belly to pool in his groin. The kid was a lot stronger than he looked.

John was kind of surprised when Dean leaned in and kissed him, working his tongue into the older man's mouth. He lay back letting Dean blanket him and slowly felt his body warm the other man's skin.

 

John pushed up trying to work his wrists out of the younger man's grip, but Dean pressed his thumb against the nerve on the underside of John's wrist and John gasped in pain. His hips jerked reflexively off the bed. Dean grinned at him pulling back and hissing,

 

 "So you like that John. Get off on being held down?"

 

Dean shifted on the bed reaching for the shaving kit he had left on the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He rolled the condom on and brushed a little of the lube over it. Releasing John's arms he pushed John's legs apart and stroked the rest of the lube of John's entrance, working two fingers inside. John sighed.

 

John lay back on the stack of pillows, with Dean between his legs. He reached up grasping the younger man's arms in his hands. Guiding him into a more comfortable position John shuffled down on the bed, and gasped when the younger man sank into him without hesitation.

 

Dean might have been younger than John but the way he moved spoke of more experience and expertise than John had acquired in his years, particularly since it had only been the past few years since Mary had died that John had gotten back in the saddle again. John just settled back and let Dean work some of his youthful aggression out on him, and he was extremely happy with the results.

 

Dean sighed and settled onto his back beside the older man. He slid his arm behind John's shoulders urging him closer.  John hesitated, and then slid across the few inches between the two men; this touchy-feely stuff was something that he rarely did with another man. But Dean seemed to like pressing his hip and leg against John's side, and John was just on the outside of sleep, and warm enough that he didn't care.

 

John fell asleep to the sound of gentle even breathing in his ear, and a strong arm thrown carelessly across his chest.  John rolled over snuffling in his sleep. He wasn't sure what had awakened him but the body lying next to him was boiling hot. He felt sweat creeping down his chest, pooling at his groin. He shrugged off the younger man's arm staggering to the bathroom to pee. He washed his hands and splashed a little water on his face turning back to the other room with a frown. He wasn't in the habit of picking up strangers in a bar, too many nasty surprises in that. John couldn't even blame it on being drunk, maybe he was missing Mary too much again.

 

He flicked off the light and bypassed the bed heading for the window. He could see the landing outside beyond the window, and he had salted the door and windows. He brushed the pad of his thumb across the line of rock salt crystals and winced when a drop of blood welled on his skin. The wind had picked up in the parking lot, and he glanced down. His truck was parked adjacent to the big black Impala and the wax gleamed on both vehicles.  Dry leaves rustled on the asphalt dancing in the breeze.  A faint noise rose above the crinkle and clatter of dried vegetation.

 

A voice carried to him on the winds, light and child-like but fraught with dark menace.

 

 

  _Little pig, little pig let me come in,_

_Not by the hair on my chinny, chin chin,_

_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in._

John leaned against the glass, letting the coldness of the window pane cool his cheek. Suddenly, a shadow fell across his body, and he jerked but refused to move. A figure was standing on the landing outside the window. He was tall, as tall as John and moved with an insouciant grace, John frowned.  He peered out but the street lights were too dim and too far away to light the man's face.

 

The face was blanketed in shadows. Nothing was showing but his even white teeth. With a jerk of his head his eyes flicked open and he smacked his palms against the glass hard enough to rattle the pane in the window frame.  When the yellow eyes pressed forward, the glass melted away and two hands reached in for him.

 

John shot upright in the bed panting like he had just run fifteen miles. He squirmed over the covers away from the body lying in the bed beside him. Dean groaned and rolled over.

 

"John, you okay?" he asked his voice thick with sleep. John felt his body go limp.

 

Dean was up and around the bed in a minute. He draped one hand over the older man's shoulders, John was shivering. Dean nudged him down, pulling the blankets back, and tucking them up under his arms.

 

"You want something to drink?"

 

"Look, I'm not a damn kid; I don't need anyone looking after me."

 

John felt like crap smarting off to the younger man. He was just trying to help. If Dean took any offense at John's tone he didn't show it.

 

"I know, it's just in our business we all have a few nightmares once in a while." Dean smiled. "I have 'em myself some nights."

 

"Sorry there's no reason for me to get nasty with you. Thanks, if you want to take off now I'll do okay."

 

"You're kicking me out?"

 

"Hell no, but I just though that you might not want to hang around with a deranged lunatic," John said sheepishly, grinning at the younger man.

 

Laughing Dean settled back down on the opposite side of the bed. "Hell, I would have thought that you'd be worried about the same thing. They don't get much more deranged than me."

 

At the diner the next morning they settled on working the job in Blue Bonnet together. John preferred solo hunting and it seemed, at least from the way he talked, that Dean was working alone too. But John had developed a liking for the younger man, and the sex was good so he didn’t put up much of fight when Dean suggested that he follow the older man to the town, and then they hook up with each other at the first hotel they found. John explained his system of picking the first hotel in the yellow pages and taking a room. Always Room number 16, if he could. If not look for the next consecutive number until Dean hit John’s room. Since most hunters, Dean included, worked under the radar it was a commonly used system and easy to remember, no need to worry about remembering names.

 

Blue Bonnet turned out to be a blip on the map at best. It was a small, dingy looking old town from depression days that looked as if it had been haphazardly built and poorly maintained. The housing tracks on the outskirts of town were the newest construction and they had probably been built twenty or so years ago.

 

The first motel John could find was a Motel Six just below the exit ramp on the freeway. It was a three-wing two story structure that had a pool in a chain link fence and was across the street from two fast food places, a dirty hole in the wall diner called Granny’s Kitchen and a Chevron station. John sighed he had planned on looking for a place downtown but he had sinking feeling that this was downtown.

 

John pulled into the mostly filled parking lot and pulled his duffle bag out of the cab. Leaning against the side of the truck he glanced at the street and was rewarded by the sight of Dean’s Impala turning off the freeway.

 

The younger man insisted on getting the room, since he had spent the night in John’s room the last time. And John didn’t feel like making an issue of it. They ended up in the rear wing on the first floor, everything John hated. They were blocked in on both sides and didn’t have a clear view of either the parking lot or the street. But with Dean, at least there were two of them. That cut the odds of something jumping them in the sheltered areas of the motel. Of course it also meant they were pretty dependant on each other as well.

 

Handing John the second key to the room Dean hauled his bag up onto one shoulder and followed the older man to the room. It was just a few minutes past noon, but neither man felt particularly hungry. They let themselves into the room. John spent the first fifteen minutes salting the windows in the room and the bathroom while Dean drew the devil’s trap on a piece of paper that could go on the carpet in front of the entrance when they went to bed that night. He left the paper on the dresser and began shuffling through his bag. John barely noticed what the younger man was doing until he saw Dean disappear into the bathroom.

 

He came out a few minutes later, rubbing a towel over his face and hair. John shrugged out of his jacket and turned on the air conditioner. The room was not too hot now, but when the sun hit the window later that evening it would be stifling. 

 

Settling on the bed Dean began stripping off his boots and socks. John looked up from the notes he was making in his journal and cast a questioning glace at the other man. Dean grinned at him.

 

“I thought I would try to talk you into a little horizontal recreation.”

 

John stripped down and flopped onto the bed. Dean rolled over, and kissed John. Sliding his hand down he tugged on the hair matting John’s chest. John grinned pulling back a little. Dean dropped a kiss on John’s breast then slid his tongue along the fine line of soft brown hair to his navel. He spent a few minutes exploring the shallow indent, until John got bossy and pushed his head further down. Dean took a deep breath and engulfed the tip of John’s cock in his mouth. John uttered a brief, descriptive curse and thrust his hips up off the bed.

 

“Come on swing around here so I can reach.”

 

Dean obliged by shuffling around on the bed. John rolled them over until he was resting on his left side, and swallowed the younger man down. Dean gasped around John’s cock, and slid his hand up wetting two fingers with spit and pre-come. He dropped his hand to John’s ass and pushed the fingers inside. It had to have hurt a little but John never so much as twitched. In fact he grunted once, and the cock in Dean’s mouth swelled to even bigger proportions before John shot down the younger man’s throat. With a sigh John slid onto his back pulling Dean up and over him. Dean thrust his hips experimentally and when John seemed okay he pushed into the warm heat of John’s mouth until he came.

 

Dean rolled off the bed and headed back into the bathroom. John frowned when he heard the water coming on again. So the kid was obsessed with showering. John sighed he hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep. Muttering under his breath he drifted off.

 

The wind picked up and the screen on the window was loose. The scraping of the edge of

screen against the frame irritated John and he sat up rubbing his eyes. The sky outside was dark and he was alone in the room. Disgruntled that the younger man had screwed him and left without so much as a goodbye he stumbled out of bed and went to the window. The salt lines were poured neat and undisturbed and Dean had, at least, put the drawing of the devil's trap on the floor in front of the door before he left. Rubbing his eyes John leaned against the window letting the cool glass take the sting out of his cheeks. A sound carried to his ears, a fluid voice light and child-like…

 

_Little pig, little pig let me come in,_

_Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,_

_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in..._

 

He couldn't see the parking lot from the window so John wasn't sure that Dean had ditched him. Something moved on the sidewalk outside the window. The lone security light on the wall opposite his room was burned out and the lights from the parking lot were too dim for him to clearly see the figure outside the window but John thought it might be Dean. He pressed closer to the glass disgusted with himself for the quickening of his pulse when he thought he recognized the younger man.

 

Suddenly the figure on the sidewalk whirled and John flinched, the man's face was blanketed in shadow, the only thing he could clearly see where his even white teeth. The man jerked his chin up and his eyes flew open glowing yellow in the pale moonlight. He reared back slamming his hands against the window, the screen peeled away and the glass shook in the frame. John tried to back away, but the glass shattered before he could move and the man's strong hands wrapped around his wrists and pulled him forward. The teeth were not so even this close, they we filed to sharp points and they cut like glass against the skin of his throat.

 

Crying out John bolted upright in the bed. Pale sunlight streamed through the window behind the blinds. Dean had been sitting in one of the shabby chairs arranged around a Formica topped table by the window. He leaped to his feet when John thrashed his way upright in the bed. Quickly he scurried to the bed and sat down.

 

"Hey, John…John are you okay? Let me get you some water."

 

John didn’t bother to stop him. He took the glass gratefully and gulped the tepid water down. His hand was shaking. Dean nudged him over and laid his hand on John’s thigh.

 

"That must have been a doozie!"  he said with a weak grin, and John flushed embarrassed. He brushed his hand across his cheek and was vaguely horrified when it came back wet. John hoped that he was sweating.

 

“Yeah, it’s a bitch all right. I’ve been having the same one for the past couple of weeks now. Since my last hunting partner died,” John whispered.

 

He had settled down now and was vaguely ashamed of bothering the younger man with his bad dreams. Dean didn’t seem to mind though, and John sighed casting a sideways glance at the other man’s face. Dean smiled at him, and John felt some tightness inside him that he wasn't even aware of breaking apart, and warmth spreading through his body. Taking a deep breath John closed his eyes. It was very possible that John was falling in love.

 

 “ _Oh shit,” he thought. “That’s the last damn thing I need.”_

John stood behind the row of houses on the cul-de-sac at the end of Tyler Lane. It wasn't the house that had burned. That was a few blocks down, but he and Dean had run across another problem that they had to deal with before they went to the wreckage of the other house.

 

They had been eating at Granny's Diner half listening to the jukebox and trying to monitor conversations around them when Dean had touched John's arm hushing him. Behind them at a table sat a family of four, Mom and Dad and two kids. That was nothing unusual, but John was struck by an odd feel to the bunch, and after a few minutes he finally got it.

 

_The man looked worn and pale, dark circles under his eyes. He kept glancing warily at the two children tucked between him and the woman. John let his eyes wander over the kids, they were no older than seven and ten at the best. The woman kept patting the younger of the two as if she was making certain that the child had not moved. Finally, she leaned over and whispered harshly._

_"I know what I saw, Dan. It was Jamie. I swear I saw her last night standing outside the door to Nate and Carrie's room."_

_She looked as if she dared him to contradict her. But John could tell that he had seen the girl as well from the way Dan had dropped his head._

Dean stiffened and grabbed John's sleeve jerking his chin in their direction and John could see the wounds on Dan's neck. Red and raw, jagged teeth marks marring the skin of his throat just above his carotid artery.

 

After a minute John had risen from his seat and walked back to the couple. He kept his voice down, and they stared at the tall, dangerous looking man who voiced what they had only been thinking.

So John and Dean had spent the rest of the day in the home of Dan and Marie Palma. They had found out that the Palma's thirteen year old daughter, Jamie, had died the previous week. Pernicious anemia the doctors had told them. They had spent weeks doing tests for all kinds of generic disorders, looking for any reason why Jamie was dying from massive blood loss, and came up with nothing. Some of the doctors had wanted to still do more testing, more research into Crohn's Disease, but in the end it hadn't mattered Jamie had died anyway.

 

Marie hadn't wanted to believe their stories about vampires. She looked like she really wanted to laugh at these two strange men, but something wouldn't let her. She only knew that since Jamie's death her husband seemed to be falling ill in an almost identical manner as their oldest child.

 

She only seemed to calm down when she watched John bless a glass of water and dip the wooden rosary he carried in his pocket into it. Marie gasped and cried when John poured holy water on her husband's neck. The white steam curled into the air, and Dan had screamed.

 

Now Dean was staking out the front yard and John was leaning against the garage just out of sight of the kids' bedroom window facing the back yard. Dan and Marie were waiting inside the den just behind the salt lines that John and Dean had poured around the house and across the doorjambs.

 

Suddenly something moved in the yard, John could just hear the faint swish of some frilly fabric in the cool breeze. He leaned around the garage and caught sight of a figure standing just outside the thin circle of light falling on the grass from the open curtains of the sliding glass doors. He could see into the house, and caught a glimpse of the girl's parents' tear stained faces.

 

The figure moved with a quiet grace that was totally unnatural for a teenaged girl. With a giggle the girl danced, whirling in the pale light.

 

"Momma," she whispered.

 

John could see Marie cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. Dan put his arm around her shoulders.

 

"Momma, Daddy let me in. I'm cold out here. Don't you want me back?" Jamie asked with a gentle smile on her face.

 

She moved across the rear porch and put her little hand on the door handle. When she saw the salt she paused.

 

"Mommy, why don't you let me in? I'm so cold and hungry.  Please Mommy don't you want me home again?"

 

John stepped out bringing his hand up from his side. The light gleamed on the blue-gray blade of the machete held in his fist.

 

"No, they don't want you here."

 

The girl turned on him hissing when she saw the weapon.

 

"Get away from me, old man."

 

John smiled moving between her and the door. He could see the stricken look on her parents' faces as he stalked forward.  Jamie made a jump for him, but John dodged and slammed his left fist into her body. The punch would have taken down a grown man, but it barely slowed her.

 

Marie screamed when the big man struck her baby girl. Throwing off her husband's arm she shoved the door back and ran into the yard. John saw her and swung around holding up his hand.

 

"Dan, get a hold of her. She's going to either get in the way or get herself killed."

 

Dean jumped the fence on the opposite side of the yard, behind the vampire. She whirled hissing like a stay cat. Dan managed to grab Marie's arm and tug her away from the two men, away from the thing that had been Jamie.

 

Trapped between the two hunters the girl stuck at the closer man. John dodged her clawed hands and managed to get his foot up against her chest. With a grunt he shoved the small body back against the tree pinning her in place. She grasped his leg beneath his jeans, drawing her nails down his shin, ripping the flesh in wide gouges. John cried out and Dean moved around him and the girl behind the tree seizing her wrists from behind and pulling them against the tree trunk. John turned toward Jamie's parents.

 

"Go inside, you don't want to see this.

 

Dan tried to pull Marie into the den, but she shook his hands off. She stood panting torn between the bleeding man with a machete in his hand and her baby. Dean was struggling with the vampire, and he glanced at the older man with a panicked expression on his face.

 

"John, I can't hold her."

 

Drawing a ragged breath John appealed to the couple on the porch once more.

 

"For God's sake go back inside because I have to do this. You won't be safe if I don't."

 

Dan cast one desperate glace at the young man struggling to hold his daughter's slender body against the tree. His face was scraped raw in places and the muscles in his arms stood out against the thin material of his black t-shirt with the effort of holding her back. John limped forward the leg of his jeans already dark with blood. Ignoring the two people behind him he raised the machete and swung. The hollow sound of the blade biting into the tree trunk was echoed by the woman's scream.

 

He staggered back as she pushed past him, falling on her knees by the crumpled bundle of white taffeta at his feet. Dean quickly gathered up the severed head, and tucked it against the little girl's body trying to preserve what he could of her parents' memory of their child.

 

Marie straightened slapping John across the face.

 

"You, you're nothing but a damned cold hearted bastard!"

 

John dropped the machete by his side, staring down at her.

 

"Yeah, and then some."

 

In the end they wrapped the little girl's body in a clean blanket that her father brought out to the yard. He stood looking at the wounded exhausted men, not speaking. Walking over to him Dean pulled Dan's collar back. The bite marks on his neck were healing now, cleaned by the holy water and the final disposition of the undead thing feeding on him.

 

John opened the trunk of the Impala and Dean carefully loaded the body inside. They could still see the haunted faces of her parents staring at them from inside the house, so they didn't bother going back. Dean pulled out of the driveway, and onto the road.

There was an out of the way wooded area not too far from the housing track and Dean turned off the road onto a dirt track that wound around a fenced pasture before dropping behind the tree line.

 

He parked the car just off the path and John and he unloaded the blanket wrapped bundle and dug a fire pit in a cleared area surrounded by trees but relatively free of underbrush. After they had salted and burned the body, they packed the tools and gas can in the trunk and slid into the car.

 

John had his head in his hands and didn’t notice when Dean pulled the car over in a secluded area just below the pasture. He looked up.

 

"Did you forget something?"

 

Before he could move Dean leaned over the seat and grabbed him by the front of the jacket pulling John bodily across the seat and into his arms. He mouth was hard against John's lips, but John managed to work his hands up and around the younger man's shoulders.  His leg was throbbing and he knew that he should get the wounds clean, but John slid down in the seat until his head and shoulders were pushed against the door, and the handle was digging into his neck. Dean got his fingers in the waistband of John's jeans and tugged the buttons free spreading his fly. He grinned when John's cock bobbed out framed in a mass of dark brown curls unhindered by underwear.

 

John moaned when Dean leaned down swallowing his cock to the root. Dean's nose brushed his pubic hair and John grasped Dean's neck using his hands to push the younger man's mouth farther down on him.

 

"Oh, holy shit!" John barked, and Dean laughed around him.

 

The vibrations caused John's leg to jerk and he hit the steering wheel, rocking the car around them. Dean didn't bother slowing down.  John's back arched up and he pushed his foot under Dean's chest trying to get the other man to let up. But Dean just sucked harder, and John came in a hot rush. His head was spinning when Dean leaned back unfastening his own jeans. He grabbed John's limp hand and shoved into it. John fisted him, and worked Dean's cock like it was the last thing he was going to do on earth. It took Dean less time to climax and he dropped back against the seat gasping for breath.

 

John lay back disheveled and sweating.

 

"Are you going to do that every time we kill something?'

 

With a grin Dean tugged his jeans closed and wiped a hand across his mouth.

 

"Yeah, probably."

 

"God, I think I'm a dead man."

 

They staggered back to the motel a little after midnight. John soaked his leg in a hot bath after they took a shower. Finally, Dean dropped the lid on the toilet and held John's leg across his lap while he stitched the worse of the cuts. Neither one bothered dressing and Dean forced half a Vicodin on John before they climbed into bed.

 

Sometime later John came awake he sat up squinting at the clock on the VCR by the television.  He wasn't sure what had awakened him but he had salted the windows and drawn a devil's trap on the floor in front of the door.  The wind had picked up and John could hear the branches on the trees whipping against the glass pane. He glanced back but Dean was a vague man-shaped bundle under the blankets.

 

Taking a deep breath John limped into the bathroom and ran a glass of water from the tap. He took a long drink and winced at the flat metallic taste before tossing the rest down the sink. With a grunt he moved as quickly as he could to the window. Leaning forward he pressed his sweaty cheek against the glass feeling the cool air pull the heat out of his face. From far away John thought he could hear a child-like voice floating on the breeze. He cocked his head and the words rolled over him, sending a shiver down his spine.

 

_Little pig, little pig let me come in,_

_Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,_

_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in._

A figure rose up in front of the window, and John gasped. He moved so quickly that John hadn't seen him walking up. If Dean hadn't been in bed behind him John would have thought that the younger man had gone outside. He leaned closer to the glass trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but the moonlight behind the figure kept his face blanketed in shadow.

 

Suddenly the man raised his hands, bringing them down against the glass with enough force to rock the window pane in its frame. His eyes flew open glowing yellow in the dark night. John tried to jump back, but the window shattered sending glass shards tinkling to the floor. Fine boned hands clutched at John's arms jerking him forward and the man's teeth closed on John's neck, pain coursed over him. He struggled but the man dropped one hand to John's bare hip, his fingers raked over John's skin and pulled a scream from his lips.

 

The sound of the scream still echoed in the room when John bolted upright in bed. Dean jerked in his sleep and threw the blankets back.

 

"John, John - honey, wake up."

 

"Did you just call me honey?" John coughed out.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, then bolted from the bed and limped into the bathroom. He bent over the toilet and retched bringing up what was left of his dinner. Dean stood in the door propped against the frame until John swung around and dropped the toilet lid sitting down hard as his leg gave.

 

"Do you want me to go to the drugstore and get you something for your stomach?" Dean asked.

 

 John shook his head. He looked embarrassed and Dean offered him a gentle smile.

 

"So, did you really call me honey?" John whispered.

 

Now Dean looked embarrassed.

 

"Uh, yeah, sorry."

 

Shaking his head John laughed.

 

"Just don't do it in public, I've got a reputation to maintain."

 

"Oh yeah, you can’t be a stone cold bastard if someone calls you honey."

 

"So do I get to call you baby?" John said with a tight grin.

 

Dean waved a hand at him.

 

"I was thinking something more along the line of Studmuffin myself."

 

John looked at him sideways.

 

"Not if you had a gun to my head."

 

Sunlight leaked through the blinds as Dean rolled over. Glancing at the other man still asleep in the bed he rolled onto one side. John looked exhausted even in his sleep. Dark circles clearly visible under the dark fan of lashes lying against his cheek. Dean leaned over tracing one finger across the arch of thick lashes smiling when John twitched in his sleep.

 

Sighing Dean rose and staggered into the bathroom to pee. When he was done he turned the water on in the shower and moved the knob over until the water was hot. Steam rose in the air circling above the shower curtain and disappearing into the ceiling vent. He jumped involuntarily when a hand fell on his shoulder. Turning he smiled at John.

 

“Sorry, got to take a leak.” John said grunting.

 

 Dean looked down at him. And John flushed.

 

“Go ahead.” Dean leaned back against the sink, making a downward motion with one hand. “Do you want me to hold it for you?”

 

“That would definitely interfere with the process. I’ve never been able to pee with a hard-on.”

 

Dean just grinned at him but made no effort to move from his stance by the sink.

 

“Do you honestly want to watch me take a piss?”

 

John looked horrified. Dean just laughed. Quickly he moved behind John pressing against the older man’s back.

 

“You’d be surprised at what turns me on,” he hissed in John’s ear. John shivered.

 

 At first he thought he wouldn’t be capable of doing it. He was one of those people who needed privacy in the bathroom. He had never even been able to share the bathroom with Mary. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and cut loose. By the time he was finished he was half hard. Dean slid his hands down John’s hips and pushed him forward until he was leaning with hands against the wall and his legs straddling the toilet. John grunted when Dean shoved into him.

 

Dean thrust into him so hard that John had to brace himself against the wall or risk having his face planted in the tile above the toilet. Moaning he dropped his hand to his own dick and tugged. Dean stilled and rested his chin on John’s shoulder leaning forward to watch the movements of John’s hand on his own body. He licked his lips and muttered,

 

“That’s it jerk off for me.”

 

Dean slid his arm up under John’s left armpit, and bent it around his upper body clasping the older man’s neck in his palm. He lifted pulling John up onto the balls of his feet, arching his back. John groaned from the burn in his legs and abdomen. His eyes closed, and his lips parted breath coming in short quick pants. With a grunt his hand worked his cock furiously, skin slick and red. Dean pressed his mouth against the side of John’s neck working his teeth over the skin just beneath the course three-day growth of stubble. When he had the mark as dark as he wanted he slid his lips over John’s shoulder biting into the tight muscle. John’s hips jerked forward and he came against the toilet tank, a thick smear dripping on the shiny ceramic surface.

 

Dean dropped his arm from around John’s neck, and the older man sagged forward, hands braced on the top of the toilet. Dean spread him open with his knees between the other man’s knees and thrust almost viciously until he came.

 

 

 

They locked the room and went down to the diner across the street for a late lunch. Dean couldn’t help but grin when he noticed how gingerly John sat down. He flushed and grinned back.

 

“A little reminder of who you belong to, John.” The younger man smirked.

 

John’s cheeks colored.

 

“So what now?” Dean asked.

 

“I think we should head over to Tyler Lane again and go through the wreckage. I don’t know how much damage was done inside, but from the outside it looked like the lower floor of the house is still pretty much intact.”

 

“Yeah, at least we can take some EMF readings and check for sulfur traces,” Dean replied.

 

The waitress came to take their order and John couldn't figure out why she kept staring at him until he went to the restroom and looked over his appearance in the mirror. When he saw the hickey on his neck he went rigid. Finally, he relaxed.  So what if the girl kept staring; he didn’t really mind people knowing that he and Dean were together. Maybe she was just envious anyway. She did it again when she brought out their food, depositing the plates on the table. Out of spite John leaned forward just enough to give her a good look at the mark, and Dean winked at her reaching across the table and taking John's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She flushed and turned with a snort, flouncing away.

 

The food was reasonably good and they ate listening to country music on the jukebox, and trying to keep an ear on conversations going on around them. John finished off his beer, and settled back waiting for Dean to finish eating. They walked back across the street and decided on taking Dean’s car. The big Impala roared to life and Dean pulled into the street.

 

The crime scene tape was sagging and dew damp, mildewing in places, and it parted easily under the blade of Dean's hunting knife. He pushed the door open wincing as it grated over the half buckled cement foundation in the entryway. The living room was sooty and waterlogged but reasonably intact and Dean swept the EMF meter around the room. The device never budged. Shrugging he tucked it into is shirt pocket.

 

John was using q-tips to wipe different surfaces through the lower floor. When had collected a few samples he took a flask of bluish colored fluid out of his bag and poured some into one hand. Raking the swabs through the fluid he held one up to Dean.

 

"Sulfur traces,” he said dropping the q-tip on the floor.

 

Dean nodded as John packed up the flask.

 

"So it is a demon. I've been to a couple of other places that had fires and where kids were missing. Do you think this is the same demon?" Dean asked.

 

John nodded. "I've been looking for the son of a bitch for twenty years now."

 

"Why?"

 

"You asked me about my wedding ring. I was married once. We were only married for eighteen months but god I love her. Her name was Mary and we grew up together, went to high school together, the whole thing. I got her pregnant prom night and we got married still in school. We had a little boy, and when he was six months old this happened to us. I came into the nursery one night and found Mary gutted and pinned to the ceiling burning up. I tried to reach her but I couldn't. She burned so fast and when I went to get Sammy out of his crib he was gone. I keep tracking this demon trying to find my son, get revenge for Mary dying."

 

"I'm sorry, John. Sorry as hell that had to happen to you."

 

"Yeah, so am I. But that's all over. Now I just hunt and keep hunting trying to kill every one of these bastards that I can. Why do you do it?"

 

"Nothing like you, I just sort of fell into hunting by accident. I do it now for the same reason you do to get rid of the riff-raff."

 

"That's a funny way of looking at it, but it works for me."

 

“So what do we do next, work the newspapers or the county offices?"

 

John sighed. "Both.  Let’s hit downtown at the courthouse. You check the newspaper archives and get copies of any old articles that relate to the fires. I'm going by the county recorder’s office and check property deeds on all the houses that burned. I've got the addresses from the old newscasts."

 

"Okay, I'll drop you off at the recorder. You're probably going to have to ask for copies to be made. I'll check the archives and pick you up in an hour," Dean said.

 

John nodded picking up his bag. They made their way out to the car, and Dean pulled into traffic. John smiled as he watched the scenery whiz past.

 

"This is the same demon, Dean. I know it. I'm going to find the bastard."

 

Dean cast a sideways glance at the older man.

 

"We're going to find him, John."

 

John was annoyed as hell. The clerk at the County Recorder's office was an idiot. Idiots annoyed John in general, this one annoyed him specifically. She was a tall, older lady with a pinched face and thin lips. She looked at him like he was some kind of a pain in the ass for even wanting the copies he requested, and it took John a couple of minutes to remember that he didn't hit women. Finally, a judicious rant on the Freedom of Information Act got minimal cooperation from her. It was after he had waited for forty-five more minutes and paid the copy fees that she finally told him that the files that he wanted weren't even in the building but in storage across the city and that he could pick up the copies at closing time that afternoon. He reminded himself that it was a felony to strike a public official in a public building so he gritted his teeth and smiled.

 

Dean was leaning against the side of Impala when he stalked out of the building and stomped over to the younger man. He grinned and John flipped him off.

 

"Not in public, but I'd be happy to find an alley," Dean said snidely.

 

John shot him a sideways glare then sighed.

 

"I hate the government. That bitch really needs to get laid. A friend of mine once told me that people who were consigned to hell were reincarnated as civil servants, now I believe it."

 

Dean patted his shoulder.

 

"Did you throw any holy water on her?"

 

John shook his head then hauled the door open. Dean moved around to the driver's side door leaning over the hood.

 

"Did you get her name? Maybe we can find her car and piss on it or something."

 

"No, that would be a waste of perfectly good bodily fluids."

 

John settled back closing his eyes.

 

"So we're stuck until five o'clock this afternoon. How'd it go at the newspaper?"

 

"Apparently a lot better than you did. I found copies of articles on all the fires. I managed to get obits on the dead parents or parent and some related articles on the missing infants."

 

"Good, we'll compare these to the notes I got from the newscasts that I've seen in Nebraska and other places. This is a lot bigger than this backwater little town. Whatever this demon is doing he's after specific children. All the kids, including my Sammy, were born in 1983 and all the fires were on November 2, 1983 as well."

 

With a shrug Dean turned the engine on and pulled out of the parking space.

 

"So there's a noticeable pattern?"

 

"I haven't mapped it out yet, but you know that would be a good idea. Let's go by the city engineer's office and see if we can get a copy of the plat maps. I've picked up some good maps from the Army Corp of Engineers and we can plot out all the locations of fires and missing kids."

 

Dean nodded.

 

"John, I saw some other articles in the archives. It seems that there are other signs as well."

 

"I know; cattle mutilations, thunder and lightening storms and unusual weather conditions. I think that's what happens when the demon passes into our plane of existence, from where ever it comes from," John said sighing.

 

Dean smiled.

 

"Yeah, I think that's common in demon transmigration. If you read up on most cases of possession those kinds of signs are also present."

 

Tapping his hand against the steering wheel Dean glanced over at John.

 

"So we have a way of tracking the bastard, but how can we predict where it's going to appear next?"

 

"That's what's been hanging me up. I can get there after the fact, but I haven't been able to come up with a way to predict where the next appearance is going to be.  I've been relying on just keeping on the move, going from place to place hunting and hoping that the damn thing shows up where I am or close enough to get there before the thing appears." John scrubbed at his eyes with a shaky hand.

 

"We have to be careful though. I was thinking that we could track the demon to his next target and try to convince the family to let us stake out the place, set up salt lines and holy water…"

 

Dean nodded but frowned.

 

"Yeah but you've got to remember that some demons are so powerful that holy water doesn't work on them, and that there are other things out there. Things that are neutral and work solely for their own benefit and these things are not wholly human or demon. They aren't so evil that salt lines or Devil's traps will work on them."

 

"So we work on finding something that will take them out," John said.

 

"You look beat, John. Why don't we go back to the hotel and you can hit the sack."

 

"I'll go if we both hit the sheets, and you help me relax enough to sleep."

 

"That's the best idea I've heard all day."

 

The sheets were cool and crisp under his back, and Dean was a warm heavy weight on his chest. The sweat and slick wetness between their bodies finally warming from their combined body heat. Dean was snuffling softly and John wriggled a little trying to get more comfortable without dislodging the younger man.  Finally Dean slipped out of John's body and he kissed John's chest between his breasts, working his tongue through the whorls of soft, brown hair.

 

"I'll get off you in a minute," Dean whispered.

 

 John slid his hands down the younger man's back, rubbing the tight muscles beneath all that smooth golden skin.

 

"No need to hurry."

 

John sighed again, sliding down on the bed after Dean rolled off of him. Dean settled back on his side watching as John's eyes slide close. In a few minutes his breath was even, a deep rolling snore that made the younger man grin.  He flopped onto his back, fingers tracing abstract patterns on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

Some vague sound pulled John from his sleep, the clocking thud of boot heels on the cement outside the hotel room window. Rolling over John dragged himself upright, He was more tired now after sleep than he was before. The bed was empty behind him and the room silent. The deepening gloom pulled a shudder from John and he scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

With a grunt John rose from the bed, untroubled by the fact that he was still naked. He staggered to the window looking out to see if Dean was standing on the landing outside the door. John leaned against the sill and winced as the course grains of rock salt cut into the tender skin on the underside of his forearm. Frowning John rocked back a little. He didn't remember doing it but the windows were salted. Dean must have taken care of it before he left.

 

A noise on the landing caught John's attention. He leaned against the glass feeling the cold pane hard against his cheek. A figure was on the landing back turned to the window and John le this eyes slip closed. So Dean was outside.  A voice light and child-like carried on the breeze wrapping itself around John pulling his eyes open.

 

_Little pig, little pig let me come in,_

_Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,_

_Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in._

The window rattled beneath John's cheek and he flinched away. The figure on the landing jerked around slamming his hands against the window pane. The shattering glass tinkled around John glittering faintly on the carpet at his feet. He tried to move away, to put some space between himself and the window but strong hands reached inside, the slender hard-bodied form sliding over the ragged glass with ease. John found himself caught, unable to pull away as the even white teeth and glowing amber eyes moved forward.

 

Almost desperately John jerked his arm struggling with his captor but the slender fingers dug into his wrists, and he was helpless caught without any hope of escape. He almost glided forward as the figure pressed against him, their lips met, and John wasn't sure if he had moved forward all the way or the demon had met him halfway. Teeth cut into his lip and he tasted the coppery taste of his own blood. The demon lapped at his mouth forcing his tongue inside. John moaned. One of his wrists fell limply by his side bouncing off his bare hip, and the demon's strong slender fingers grappled with John's flesh skimming over his hip to clutch at one of his buttocks.

 

Jerking back John tried to push the demon off, even as he felt one of the questing fingers sink into his body burning like acid. Crying out John pushed at the demon's strong chest, but the yellow eyes caught his holding him in place and then something hard moved against John's leg. He looked down shrinking back.

 

"Oh god no,"  he whispered, but the thing slithered against him, even from almost a foot away the hard flesh twitched and moved side to side sliding over John's leg, between his cheeks, pushing inside, and it was so cold. John groaned as the demon delved deeper and deeper inside him all fire and ice, and hard needy flesh. When the demon thrust up and further in John screamed.

 

John bolted upright in the bed and Dean rolled over sitting upright reaching for John's shoulder. The older man shrugged him off and staggered into the bathroom slamming the lid down on the toilet and falling heavily onto it. Reaching for a glass he knocked it off sending it spiraling to the floor. The glass shattered and John reached cursing under his breath. Carefully he began tossing the shards into the garbage can. Then Dean was beside him unwrapping the paper off the other glass. Quickly he filled the glass with water and held it up for John to drink.

 

The older man pushed Dean's hand away.

 

"I don't need you taking care of me. I'm not a kid, I can do this myself."

 

"Yeah, you can, but you don't have to."

 

Dean smiled holding the glass up. At first he thought that John wasn't going to give in. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward letting Dean give him the water. 

 

"It's just I've been alone for so long. I'm not very social."

 

"It's okay. Look are you tired of me? I can get my stuff together and take off if I'm bugging you."

 

John flinched.

 

"No, Dean. It's just that after Mary I thought that I would never feel anything for anybody again. It's kind of shaking me up a little."

 

 

Dean grinned.

 

"I'm not asking for anything that you can't give, John, just as much as you can. I understand but I'm not ashamed to say I love you."

 

"Whatever is left, whatever didn't get burned up with Mary, it's all yours."

 

"Come back to bed."

 

John lay back on the bed, as Dean rolled them over. He slid forward enjoying the feeling of hard flesh sliding against hard flesh as he settled down between John’s legs. The older man spread out, letting his hands trail down Dean’s back grasping the younger man’s hips.

 

“Baby, I want you inside me.”

 

With a grin Dean shuffled back on his knees bringing his hips flush against John’s ass. He skimmed his hands over John’s chest then slid one hand under John’s hip pulling him up. He pressed the tip of his cock against John’s entrance.

 

“Little pig little pig let me come in…” he whispered harshly against John’s ear. Suddenly John stiffened; with a muffled cry he pushed Dean back trying to force the younger man off him.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Dean cocked his head frowning. John tried shoving him off again, but Dean grasped John’s wrists slamming them back against the bed. John jerked his arms, breath coming in quick harsh pants. The tenor of John's voice change, his moan echoing fear not arousal, and Dean suddenly released him sitting back on his heels. He patted John’s thigh.

 

“John, are you okay? You’re not playing are you?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

John shuffled back against the headboard drawing his legs up and propping his forearms on his knees. He gasped trying to calm his breathing. Dean settled back beside him and John could see the confusion written plainly on the younger man’s face.

 

“Hey, whatever I said to upset you I’m sorry, okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s not your fault. It’s just in my dreams I hear that?”

 

“Hear what?”

 

“That nursery rhyme. The demon or somebody says that just before he breaks into the room. It scares the hell out of me. At first he just stood beside the window, but later he kept getting in, more and more each time. In my last dream he…uh…he raped me.”

 

With a frown Dean leaned back letting his head rest against John’s shoulder. Finally, he slid a hand down John’s thigh grasping the muscled flesh in his fingertips.  He smiled over at John trying to ease the guilt and shame he saw on John’s face.

 

“It’s just a dream,” John said flushing. But Dean squeezed his leg.

 

“It’s real to you. If it bothers you then it bothers me, okay.”

 

For some reason John felt absurdly grateful, then a dark voice whispered at the back of his mind.

 

" _Not for some reason, you can't deny it anymore."_

Sighing Dean patted John’s leg then dropped his hand.

 

“Am I causing all this because you feel guilty?”

 

“No, I’m causing all this."

 

Dean smiled.

 

“Don't do this to yourself. I'm here for the long haul, for ever how long that is. Okay?”

 

John glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. Wincing he pushed off the headboard and sat on the side of the bed.

 

“I need to pick up that stuff at the County Recorders Office.”

 

“You _need_ to get some sleep. I’ll pick it up, and bring it back here. We’ll go through it at dinner. Look I’m going to get you a sleeping pill. I know you don’t like being that out of it, but you need some sleep. Take it for me?”

 

John nodded and Dean slid off the bed padding to his duffle bag. He pulled out his shaving kit and dumped a white capped prescription bottle into his hand. 

“I take these once in a while. It’ll do you good to get a few hours sleep.”

 

He brought the pill and a glass of water to the bed. John cast a sideways glance at him and Dean laughed.

 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

 

“I’m not used to being told what to do.”

 

“That’s the price you pay for being in a relationship, John. Your problems are my problems now. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dreams let up now that we got some things out of the way.”

 

“Yeah maybe. Okay, I’ll take the damn thing. Just don’t go looking for it without me.”

 

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

 

Glancing at his watch Dean set the glass on the table, and watched as John rolled over onto his side. He waited a few minutes until John’s shoulders slumped into a relaxed sleep. Smiling he pulled on a jacket, checked the salt lines on the window and locked the door behind him. Whistling he pulled his car keys out and headed to the county building on 14th Street.

 

It didn’t take him long to pick up the files they had asked to be copied. Dean would add these to the papers and newspaper clippings that John had already been collecting. With this information he could see a pattern was beginning to emerge. It would be a long hunt but he and John were closer to tracking this particular demon than he had ever been alone. He smiled humming to himself under his breath.

 

Instead of turning onto the road back to the hotel Dean drove onto the freeway heading back to the housing track and the burned out house on Tyler Lane. He passed the Palma’s house, and then bypassed the wreckage they had searched a few days ago. He found the rutted dirt and gravel road that lead behind the houses and into the hills above the city.

 

It took almost thirty minutes to hike the trail to the abandoned silver mines that had been the foundation of the dirty little city. Dean wasn’t worried about being gone so long; John would sleep for at least six hours on the pill he had given him. He would be back at the hotel in plenty of time. He carefully placed his pack on the ground pulling out a silver cup.

 

With a grin Dean reached into the pack again and retrieved a thick wax-coated glass bottle wrapped in twine. From the distance the greenish glass made the dark fluid inside look brown. He uncorked the bottle and poured the cup half full of the thick brackish fluid. Sniffing he frowned, the blood was getting rancid. It smelled rotten but it would do the trick for now. He would have to fill it again soon. 

 

When he had cast the invocation he entered the cave. The light was dim in the cool interior, and, at first, Dean could not make out the tall slender figure standing against the far wall of the cave.  The figure moved and Dean waited until he was beckoned. He walked forward then bent his head in supplication.

 

"I have done as you required, Sammuael, master. I have brought the one you told me, John Winchester, to this place as you desired."

 

The figure stepped closer and to anyone observing he was a tall young man of perhaps twenty years old. Longish brown hair cascaded over his forehead shadowing his brown eyes. He smiled.

 

"I am please D' Ean."

 

"Did you want me to kill the hunter?"

 

Sammuael looked truly offended.

 

"No, of course not. His seed created my Earthly body. His wife bore me. He is, in a sense, my father." 

 

With a sigh the younger appearing man brushed a brotherly hand over D'Ean's back.

 

"You have done exactly as I wanted. He has been an unwitting ally in my fight against Azreal. If Azreal had his way he would kill me and all my siblings. In the future, when our time comes, we will rule this physical dimension much like we rule our own. John Winchester has been beneficial to my cause, he clears the unworthy out of the way, and his desire for vengeance keeps him working toward defeating my enemy."

 

"What should I do?"

 

"Nothing more than you have been doing. Watch over John, he treads a dangerous path and I do not want him dead. Hunt with him, clean the Earth of the less worthy. Offer him aid and comfort, make love to him, and keep him focused on the fight. The dreams were helpful in binding him to you, but they are wearing him down. It is time for them to stop. He will not leave you now."

 

D' Ean nodded turning to follow his master, the pale sunlight flashing in his amber eyes.

 

"That is not a difficult thing. I want him."

 

"When Azreal is dead and I and my siblings are come into our time on Earth I will place you above all others in my council and John Winchester will be yours, body and soul."

 

The End

 


End file.
